


About the Beekeeper

by resurrectedhippo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beekeeper!Castiel, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Teacher!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectedhippo/pseuds/resurrectedhippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Claire Novak almost cries so Dean shares a secret with his student. That obviously prompts the said student to talk about her Uncle Castiel, the beekeeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About the Beekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I wrote this fluff piece to battle the man pain of 9x10. I love the idea of Dean being a teacher and interacting with his students and Cas being strange, (woooo, crazy!cas is so cute uwu). There's a possibility I might revisit this idea and perhaps turn it into a verse.  
> Kudos and comments! Those are lovelier than the Hobnob cookies my dad buys. :-)

It all started when he found Claire Novak crying under a shaded terrain instead of joining her mates during lunch break. Dean supposes he’s to blame since he scolded the child earlier. He sighs, puts his almost finish sandwich down and makes his way towards her. Sam would scoff at him for his longing look at the sandwich instead of directly running to the child. On the other hand, Dean’s the teacher while Sam is the newly graduated but successful lawyer. They’d both argue for their career’s worldly justice over chips and beers until they come to a stalemate.

“Claire?”

Claire Novak wiped her tears quickly before turning towards her teacher. “Mr. Winchester?”

Dean hummed in confirmation before sitting beside her. “Now, what’s this all about?” Dean resisted the urge to point at her tear-stricken face.

“Nothing.” Her gazed stayed fixed on the playground. Children flew high on the swing sets and ran around the family of monkey bars and slides. Most of them had a smile plastered on their faces and somehow, being able to witness the carefree nature of these children makes Dean’s heart flutter. He’d never admit it, he’d stay defiant and loyal to his father—because John Winchester tried his best—but there’s never been a day he wished he had this sense of normalcy: to grow up in a town large enough that prevents everyone and their mom’s running the town gossip on ghetto grapevine but small enough to maintain a close-knit community. A good amount of parents attended the PTA meetings every Wednesday.

“You’re crying for nothing then?” Dean pressed on.

“Is something wrong with that, Mr. Winchester?”

“It’s just strange, that’s all.”

Claire looks perplex as if the idea of crying is a normal occurrence in her life. Dean was suddenly worried. “My uncle doesn’t think so.”

Oh. “Why not?”

“He believes it’s normal to express sadness, grief, and even happiness and gratitude through tears.”

Dean wasn’t going to argue with that, he almost cried when Sam was accepted into Stanford and he definitely cried when Sam left, but he bawled when he saw Sam walk across the stage with his graduating class proudly.

“So are you sad or happy?” Dean was compelled to confirm if his deductions were correct. Claire crying only lead him to conclude that _of course, Winchester, she’s upset._

Claire didn’t reply, though she no longer twisted her small pale fingers and played with the hem of her skirt.

“Is this about earlier?”

“Maybe.” Claire answered.

Ah, Dean fearing to be the indirect cause of his student’s formidable frown, frowned himself. He’s been teaching for nearly five years, having to break up arguments between his second graders should be nothing new. He should be used to it, but the way his shoulders tense and the way his hand connects to the back of his neck says otherwise.

Dean clears his throat. “Now, Claire. What you did was wrong. You know I had to give you the time out.”

“Yes, Mr. Winchester, I realize that.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for not sending me to the principle.”

“Now, I wouldn’t have gone that far.” Dean suppresses a groan, he mentally reminds himself that he’s a teacher now. He’d been sent to a handful of principles through grade school, all who became familiar faces that sneered or looked at him pitifully.

“I still avoided Mr. Crowley.”

Dean huffs a chuckle. “You don’t like him?”

“I don’t trust the British.” Claire said distastefully, her nose crinkled and Dean couldn’t help but smile wider. He’s not teaching his second graders about the American Revolution, though they’ll inevitably learn about it on their fourth year.

“And why is that?”

“My Uncle had this friend, Balthazar. He was British. Too posh, I couldn’t understand a word he said. Maybe it’s because I was really, really young, but still.”

Dean wanted to tell her that maybe when she grew up, she’d find the British much more appealing as women of age often do, but he held his tongue. Dean Winchester was not going to promote anything that wasn’t in his educational plan. At least he was going to try not to. “Was it because of his accent?”

“Partly, but mainly because I didn’t like the shirts he wore.” Claire smiled.

“I never expected you to judge a book by its cover, Claire.” While the statement may have been offensive to the general consensus, Claire grinned. She wore her hair down in blonde streaks; pale face that’s been kissed by the sun, blue eyes that he’d guess runs in the family. She’s a lucky kid, Dean thinks she’d be breaking hearts one day.

“I’m not! It’s the true Mr. Winchester.”

“If you say so.”

They smile at each other and Claire thinks that Mr. Winchester is her favorite teacher despite his habit of scolding students. Claire now understands he only wants to teach her ethics. Mr. Winchester smiled a lot, read to them in different voices, and didn’t give homework over the weekend. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She said, compelled to apologize since her revelations.

“No worries, I hope you understand why I had to put you to time out though.”

“Yes, I understand.” She nods.

“I’d like to know why you pulled Laura’s hair though.”

Claire sighs, there’s a pool of tears threatening to spill from their refuge. “They said that if a boy pulls your hair that means they like you.”

“Who said that?” Dean raises his eyebrows—where do kids get this information these days?

“Television.”

“Uhm, alright.” He stumbles and his fingers are grasping for a reasonable response. “But you pulled Laura’s hair.” It comes out as a question.

The tears are gone and Claire looks at him as if she’s questioning his teaching credentials. “Yes.”

“So?”

“I like Laura.”

Flabbergasted at a child’s confession, Dean says, “Oh. Okay.”

“I thought she’d like me if I did that. But it turns out it was a really, really, really, big mistake because now she hates my guts and probably thinks I’m the b-word.”

Dean refrains from slapping his forehead—because is he really having this conversation with his student, much more a second grader. “You like Laura?” Dean repeats for confirmation.

“ _Yes, Mr. Winchester.”_ Claire says firmly, confidence ringing from the tone of her voice.

“Well…that’s nice.” Dean deadpans.

“She doesn’t think so.”

“I’m not sure that belief applies anymore, Claire. Maybe you’ll pull someone’s hair to get their attention, but it wouldn’t say you like them. It’s actually the opposite.”

“I see that now.” She sighs.

“Are you going to tell her you like her?”

“I don’t know. Pulling her hair was a long shot, she already hates me. Don't you think I’ll get bullied if I tell her?”

Dean doesn’t want to discourage her—to tell her that some people may look down on her, tease her, call her mean names because she likes a girl. “Why would you get bullied?”

“Because maybe they’ll think it’s unnatural for me to like a girl.” She supplies.

Mr. Winchester, the fun and well liked teacher, the one who charms his student’s mom’s at PTA meetings suddenly has the urge to wrap his arms around Claire Novak. He suppresses the desire, but smiles at her, wide, all teeth. The smile that shows his dimples. “Maybe. But I’ll tell you a secret.” He winks.

“What’s that?” She prods eagerly.

“I like girls _and_ boys.”

“So you like boys?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think it’s unnatural?”

“Maybe some people do, but I don’t.”

She smiles brilliantly, with crooked teeth and food particles on the cleft of her two front teeth. “My Uncle Castiel thinks the same thing.”

“Your Uncle is a nice man isn’t he?” He’s rather interested in who Castiel is by the way Claire lights up proudly at his name.

“He’s the best.” Before she was able to launch (brag) about her favorite and only uncle, the bell rings to announce the end of lunch break.

Dean groans to face Claire’s unhappy face. “Come on, buddy, time to go.”

“Oh man, I was going to tell you all about Uncle Castiel. He’s the best, Mr. Winchester!”

“You’ll have to save it for our next date then.”

Claire laughs all the way to the classroom and when she’s seated at her seat, she chances a glance at Laura—Laura with red hair and much like Mr. Winchester, she had a face fsull of freckles. Laura seems to have cooled off, if not forgiven her, so she risks a small smile. Her heart leaps when the red head shakes her head but waves with a small smile of her own.

\--  

For the second time that day, Dean sees Claire Novak alone. She’s sitting by the school gate, lime green backpack on her lap and a thoughtful, if not peaceful expression on her face. Dean spares a glance at his watch and comes to find that it’s nearly 3:20 PM. He frowns, the grade-schoolers were released at 2:50PM.

Worried, he makes his way to Claire who waves at him enthusiastically, “Hello, Mr. Winchester!”

She was happy, that’s good. “Hey, Claire. What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” But she has a dreamy look on her face, so not even a minute passes when she confesses, “I apologized to Laura and she said we can be friends.”

“That’s great news. Did you tell her you liked her?” Dean shouldn’t ask, he knows, but what the hell, Claire likes him as a teacher and he’d assume that she’s comfortable enough to confide in him.

She shakes her head. “Maybe later when we’re really, really good friends.”

Dean smiles not really knowing what to say. “So why haven’t your parents come to pick you up?” He looks at his watch worriedly. He finished cleaning his classroom: reorganizing the tables and chairs for the mess it because during the day, stacking playthings in cabinets, putting books in their shelves, yet Claire Novak still remained in school.

“My Uncle is coming to pick me up. He just called me, said he was running late, but he’ll be here soon.” She informs, then her eyes go wide and she smiles really, really, big and frankly Dean’s afraid of what she’d say next. “You can meet him!”

Dean sighs, he has nowhere to be so he takes a seat beside Claire, their backs against the brick wall. “I suppose I can wait.”

“Do you want to meet him, Mr. Winchester? I promise he’s the best. He takes good care of me, buys me things I want, we eat cheeseburgers every Saturday night, and most of all he has the coolest job.”

Dean scoffs, surely, this Uncle Castiel isn’t as great as Claire Novak believes him to be. “Cooler than a teacher?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but that’s where my loyalties lie.”

“But I thought I was your favorite teacher.”

“You are, but Uncle Castiel he’s just… he’s—I don’t know. He’s different. When we go to parties all the girls like him, but only in the beginning. Once I overheard them say he was very strange.” Claire frowns, lost in her memories. “Dad used to tell me that’s because Uncle Castiel has ‘too much heart.’”

Dean looks at her intently. That’s the first time she’s ever mention her father, she’s been too preoccupied with the accomplishments of Castiel. Dean notes the sad tone and the sudden, uncharacteristic, but now familiar biting of the lips. She was trying not to cry. “But you’ll like Uncle Castiel. He’s helped me a lot.” Dean waits for her to go on, assuming she has more to say, but she doesn’t so they sit there quietly.

“I can’t wait to meet him, buddy.” Dean finally says.

Claire smiles and he knows that look, it’s a sad smile, but one of hopefulness. She is sad, but it’s hopeful kind of sad—sadness that takes long to get used to, the type of sadness he himself has associated with losing a parent. Dean doesn’t demand her to continue, instead he asks her to tell him about her Uncle Castiel.

“He’s taught me the most interesting things,” Claire starts, and when Dean feigns offense, she laughs loudly. “Not school stuff, I get that from you, Mr. Winchester, but with bees.”

“Bees?” Claire laughs at the comical expression on her teacher’s face.

“Yes! Bees! Uncle Castiel is a beekeeper. He has two jobs, he works as an accountant, but every weekend we go to the cabin and he takes care of bees.”

“Huh.” Is all Dean has to say. Uncle Castiel was very, very strange.

“We have boxes and boxes of bees. He gets queen bees shipped to him every few weeks so he can manipulate the process of the bee colonies.”

“Your Uncle does this professionally?” Dean’s lost in a stutter. Bees have always irritated him, they flew in every direction and tended to chase after him.

“Not professionally, I don’t think he gets paid, so I don’t know if I should still consider it as his second job, but he really loves it and he said you should get a job you love.”

“Doesn’t he ever get stung by bees?”

Claire deadpans, “Of course.”

“And?”

“And?”

“Wouldn’t that make being a beekeeper unappealing?”

“Maybe. I’ve gotten stung a few times. I think Uncle Castiel is used to it, sometimes he wears gloves.” Claire goes on to inform him about bees and their process of mating: Dean’s known that drones (male bees) die after mating with a worker bee, but he’s never known that the bee world was so progressive. Claire tells him about the queen bee—who gives birth to approximately 2,000 bees a day—roles, how worker bees (female bees) run the bee colony and how they kill drones if they fail to mate. Dean’s amazed by all the information his student has feed him—how honey combs are made, how bees feed their queen, and why bees actually fly annoying around. “There’s actually a pattern to the way they life and they do so to inform their bee family about where the food is and what not.”

“Wow, Claire, that’s a lot of information to take in.”

“Yep.” Claire looks proud with her back straight (which is actually always straight) and the smug look on her face. “Uncle Castiel breeds bees, but he does it _naturally_.” Dean didn’t even know there’s an unnatural way to breed and raise bees. “He told me that some beekeepers and honey manufactures replace the bees honey and food with water sugar and antibiotics. They’re being pumped with unnatural chemicals which results in thousands of bees dying quickly.”

Wasn’t Dean supposed to be the teacher? From what Claire has said about her Uncle, Dean thinks that Castiel lectures Claire on harmful chemical products and its dangers to the world. Yeah, he can definitely picture that, short, nerdy, accountant-beekeeper.

“Uncle Castiel doesn’t like how we use bees for honey, which is their _gold—_ Eureka, right, Mr. Winchester?—but then when the bees fly around us we shoo them away.”

Short, nerdy, accountant-beekeeper who wants to protect the rights of insects, Dean would have thought Castiel was a vegetarian if Claire didn’t mention the cheeseburgers. Dean really wants one now and he says so, unknowingly.

“Mr. Winchester!” Claire covers her mouth, “We’re talking about bees, not cheeseburgers.”

Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t know where to go on from this point. The bee lecture was actually really interesting, he’s somehow considering looking a feel facts up himself, when a deep, parched-like (in an attractive way—no doubt this man is attractive!) voice says, “I could have a cheeseburger myself.”

“Uncle Castiel!” Claire jumps up excitedly, runs with her backpack in tow, before launching herself to her the attractive man. Uncle Castiel—Castiel, hugs her back and pats her head, he looks at her fondly, as if that’s his own child.

“Hello, Claire, how was your day?” He asks before he spares a glance at Dean, who pathetically smiles like a shy school boy. _For God’s sake, you’re her teacher! That’s your student’s uncle! Get it together, Dean._

“Well, it was bad, then good, thanks to Mr. Winchester.” Claire looks back between the two adults, a mischievous smile on her face, before dragging Castiel towards her teacher. “I want you to meet him, he’s the best teacher in the school.”

Dean would never admit the blush creeping up his face, but he sure as hell can feel the heat on his skin. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Castiel greets with a small smile. Calm, collected, but friendly, Dean feels accomplished by dragging a smile out of his face. “Castiel Novak.”

Dean takes the hand held out towards him, “Dean Winchester.” Solid grip, warm fingertips, calloused hands.

“Thank you for waiting with Claire. My apologies, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay.” Dean and Claire say simultaneously. They wear knowing smiles—“Jinx.” They repeat together.

Castiel smiles fondly at his niece, ruffling her hair affectionately. Dean Winchester suddenly yearns for those hands on his hands.

“It’s okay, Uncle. Mr. Winchester was nice, I told him about the bees.” Claire looks up to reassure him. “He said it was interesting.”

“Do you really think so?” The question was directed at Dean. Castiel gazed at him intently, he had blue eyes, beautiful eyes that poets write poems about.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard anything about bee keeping before, so yeah. It was interesting.” And just because he can’t bear to keep his mouth shut, “Really cool.”

Castiel smiles, and he seemed like he was about to say something, the moment seemed important but it was gone in an instant. “I was sad during lunch, I was in trouble—Mr. Winchester talked to me about it, so I wasn’t in that big of a trouble—because I pulled someone’s hair—“

“You what?” Castiel interrputs, but he was unheard, as Claire continues (as nervous children often do).

“Because I liked her. Mr. Winchester said it’s okay, because he likes boys too.” Claire smiles at Dean, oblivious to the blush on her teacher's face. _Oh great._ Claire’s Uncle, Castiel, was handsome—the type of guy that Dean would think about in the shower for weeks—interesting, obviously brilliant, and he was wearing a suit—did Dean mention how handsome Castiel was? He’ll skip the blue eyes because he _will_ write poetry about that. But most of all, Claire adored him—he was a suitable guardian.

“Uhm..” Dean stutters.

“Then I remembered that you like boys too!” Claire accomplished smiles as if she’s waiting for a pat on the back and a wild applause.

“Hm, that’s true, Claire.” Castiel presses Claire’s shoulders reassuringly before turning his eyes on Dean.

Dean’s blushing, he knows that—he’s been blushing for the past ten minutes because of this unbelievable man he’s faced with—he’s got his hands in the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from twisting his fingers.

“Did you mention cheeseburgers?” Castiel states. It’s a statement, it doesn’t sound like a suggestion of any sort, but he’s leaning in and his eyes are smiling.

“I did say that.” Dean wants to throw himself to the nearest open window because where has all his Winchester charm disappeared to? He’s clearly out of his depth and it hasn’t helped that the only thing he’s said to Castiel was his name.

“I said I could have a cheeseburger myself.” Castiel’s gaze doesn’t falter, though his voice has reached a quitter tempo, it was almost a whisper.

Claire, seeing the obvious (sexual) tension between her two favorite men, takes matters into her own hands. “Mr. Winchester, I think my uncle is asking you to eat with us.”  Claire doesn’t wait for a response, she grabs Castiel's hands, lime green backpack over her shoulders and starts walking down the street.

She looks back to see Dean catch up, “Uncle Castiel, tell Mr. Winchester about the honey.”

“Oh yes, the Novak recipe.” Castiel smiles up at Dean.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? Kudos and comments are better than the current state of the economy!  
> Have a lovely day :-)


End file.
